


The Flower of Kirkwall

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cadash is a good mom, F/M, Family Feels, Growing Up, Light Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Viscount Varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Marguerite Cadash-Tethras is known as the Flower of Kirkwall.Some nights, that nickname grates a little more than she wants to admit.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Flower of Kirkwall

The sounds of the party spilled out into the evening air even as Maria shut the shimmering glass door behind her. The garden was silent, too early for lovers to slip away and hide among the strategically pruned hedges and cozy nooks. The darkness of the keep’s garden was illuminated by nothing more than stars piercing the sky above them. Maria took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she stepped away from the glow of the windows and the clink of glasses, the murmured hush of conversation broken by a shrill laugh. 

Maria paused on the path into the hedge maze, chuckling to herself as she crouched down to pick up one perfectly formed rosette, crafted cleverly out of silk with a seed pearl sewn in the center. Casting her eyes down the path, she saw a trail of near identical flowers scattered over the ground. 

And she thought Magpie _liked_ her dress this evening. Apparently her mercurial child had changed her mind. 

Maria’s own skirts, still too cumbersome even without all the hoops and layers every other noble in the blighted ballroom wore, whisked too loudly against the ground. It would be just the sound to give her away to an assassin, if one lingered. Which, of course, they _probably_ didn’t. She was, after all, home. Surrounded by guards, thick stone walls, and all the goodwill and power Varric could fortify them with. 

But Maria hadn’t gotten this far by being stupid. She let her skirts trail anyway, the same way a snake rattled it’s tail. A warning for all those who dared get too close. 

As she drew near the center of the maze, she could hear the trickle of water. The rosettes came less frequently, but Maria didn’t need the trail. She knew where Magpie went as soon as she saw them heading into the maze. She knew the way, under a floral arch, heavy with the scent of jasmine, and emerging into a clearing with benches and a large, solid fountain. 

A structure that _literally_ dwarfed the young woman sitting on the edge of the basin, the water lapping at her legs, ruined silk clinging to her up to her waist. She’d ripped the pins out of her hair too, and it fell out of the braids to her shoulders. Magpie didn’t turn at the soft sound of silk on the ground, and that made Maria frown. 

If she was an assassin…

But her daughter didn’t need to be frightened in her own home, that was why Maria and Varric existed, after all. She approached silently, listening to the soft humming as Magpie trailed her fingers through the water. 

The ten year old didn’t know Maria was next to her until she thrust her arm forward, crumpled rosette in her palm. “I thought you liked the flowers?” 

Magpie whirled on her, pale eyes reflecting Maria’s shadow and the stars above. She took in the false flower, then latched onto Maria’s gaze. “Is dad angry?” She asked quietly.

At his Sunshine? Maria couldn’t even imagine it. “Worried.” She said, sitting beside her. “More worried when you didn’t come back. I thought you wanted to come tonight, love.” 

“I did!” Magpie protested, kicking her heel into the water, causing a small splash that sent ripples in all directions. “I did. Until that _stupid_ bard and his _stupid_ song.” 

Ah. Maria had to fight to keep the amusement off her features. “What was it called again?” 

“Ode to the _Flower_ of Kirkwall, Marguerite Tethras.” Magpie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Did you _hear_ it?” 

“Only the part about the warm sun bequeathing you with a glow that caused you to burst from the soil with vigor and, what was it?” Maria paused, thoughtful. “

“ _Youthful_ vigor and the promise of _fields_ of wildflowers in my wake. It was _embarrassing._ ” Magpie huffed. 

“Aveline chucked him out the backdoor and told him not to come back.” Maria soothed gently, dropping the rosette in the water and bringing her hand to rest lightly on her daughter’s chilled silk-clad skin. “All things considered, the dress was bad luck, wasn’t it?” 

“I don’t _want_ to be the Flower of Kirkwall. I want to be…” Magpie trailed off, fisting her own hands in the wet silk. Maria waited, patiently. 

“Can I come with you?” Magpie turned to grab her arm, imploring. “The next time you leave? I’ve been practicing with the bow. Donnic says I’m as good as any guardsman. I promise, I’ll listen.” 

Maria paused to give the impression she was considering, even as the word burnt the tip of her tongue. “No, Magpie. You’re too young.” 

“When, then?” She asked, impatient and reckless, looking so like Bea in the darkness, rebellious and proud, that Maria could weep. “I _want_ to be like _you_.”

Maria Cadash learned to slit a man’s throat at twelve. She watched life bleed out of many more before that. Zarra always said she wouldn’t shield her granddaughters from life’s brutality. 

Maria wanted to do better. She could _afford_ to do better, couldn’t she? That was the _reason_ for the silk dress, the walls, the parties and meetings and endless trivialities that her and Varric were far too old for. 

Her daughter could be better than she was. 

“We’ll all talk about it in the morning, but not for a couple more years at least, Magpie.” As long as Maria could put it off, honestly. 

“You don’t trust me.” The sulking pout didn’t dim her daughter’s pretty features. Flower of Kirkwall, indeed. They’d have their hands full, someday. 

“I do.” Maria wrapped her arm snugly around Magpie’s waist and pulled her tight. “I especially trust your aim. I cannot _believe_ you managed to hit that man with a piece of cake so perfectly. I’ve never been more impressed.” 

That was enough to make her daughter giggle and lean into the one-armed embrace. Enough to allow Maria to escape the question one more time. 

_When can I come with you?_

_Never_ , Maria thought. The dread wolf wouldn’t catch her daughter’s scent while she still lived, whatever it took. 

**Author's Note:**

> FINE DWARVEN CHEST HAIR DIRECT FROM KIRKWALL AT [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](http://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com)


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